I Wanna Take The Walls Down With You
by Katertots
Summary: Her heart shouldn't be pumping this quickly, she thinks, but it's the most fun she's had all evening.


A/N: This is a oneshot that fulfills my sordid prompt on my fictable at ye olde el jay! You can read stuff over there, too. Username is katertots_78.

* * *

Rachel's a good performer.

She's a phenomenal singer, a charismatic actress, and she's been told her entire life just how talented she is. People in New York are starting to know her name and they, too, recognize the talent she possesses.

But she knows that even though she's conjuring up every ounce of said talent right now, there's no way that she can possibly sell her enjoyment over this bad blind date. Because there isn't any; not one _iota _of fun.

Not even dinner at the Four Seasons can save this train wreck.

Her date, Blake, is droning on and on (_and on_) about his work as an investment banker and his portfolio and it's crystal clear that his opinion of himself is the highest around. Part of her wants to point out that the economy is still in the shitter and the huge nosedive the DOW took last week, but that just seems mean and she never wants to intentionally be that. His phone rings and he pulls a weird (she thinks) face before issuing a quick apology and hurriedly walking away to take the call.

Rachel's grateful for the silence at the table and reaches for her martini. Sipping slowly, she looks around at the other diners. People-watching has always entertained her and this particular locale is exceptionally fascinating. Everyone is well-dressed—from the yuppies knocking back cocktails after long days at work to the stuffy old school businessmen being propositioned by high class call girls that blend in so well they'd fool most people in the place into thinking they were just much, much (_much_) younger girlfriends or trophy wives.

Her eyes land on a man across the room that doesn't stick out from the other guests necessarily, but he doesn't look like he frequents the Four Seasons on a regular basis either. The dark gray jacket he's wearing fits perfectly over broad shoulders, though if she were placing bets, she wouldn't put money on him dressing this way usually; she _would_ bet, however, that the jacket is probably a loaner from the hotel. He's alone and something about the way his chiseled jaw is set tells her he's not all that happy about it. He's absolutely the sexiest man in the place and probably the sexiest man she's seen in, well…_ever_ seems too dramatic, even for her, but she thinks that description might be apt.

There's no way he is a businessman. Well, she supposes that's not entirely true; he very well _could_ have a business of some sort, but he clearly doesn't do the same kind of business that most of the men in the room do. Because her date is (thankfully) taking a long time on the phone and she is bored, she lets her mind wander over possibilities about this dark haired man with the gorgeous face and perfect lips.

Just then the man in question glances over as though he's just homed in on her thoughts. His eyes darkly bore into hers as he casually leans back in his chair and slowly raises the crystal glass full of amber liquid to his lips. She knows she's been caught staring and something electric shoots up her spine, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight up.

She doesn't look away quickly the way she normally does after the subjects of her people-watching catch her. Instead, she idly traces her finger around the rim of her martini glass, feels her skin warm when his lips twitch into what can only be classified a smirk. Plucking the olives from her glass, she slides the garnish into her mouth and slowly removes the skewer, not breaking her gaze with the man looking heatedly back at her. His head cocks slightly to the right and arches an eyebrow at her.

Her heart shouldn't be pumping this quickly, she thinks, but it's the most fun she's had all evening.

(And if she's being completely honest with herself, it's the most fun she's had in ages; she ignores the voice in her head telling her she's pathetic.)

The fun is short-lived, though, when her pompous date and his perfect blond hair and tailored Armani suit breaks her line of vision with the sexy stranger and gracefully eases back into his chair, smoothing down his blue striped tie. She actually frowns for a second and over his shoulder she can see a crooked grin briefly flash across the sexy man's face.

"I'm really sorry, Rachel, but I need to get back to the office," he apologizes.

"Oh, that's okay, Blake, really," she says just a little too quickly.

"Would you like to reschedule? I can have my secretary call you."

Part of her wants to laugh and another little part wants to throw her martini in his face for being such a clueless dolt. The rest of her wants him to leave as quickly as possible so she can resume the visual flirtation she was engaged in before he came back and spoiled her fun. "I don't think that will be necessary, Blake. Thank you, though," she answers bluntly.

His expression is pinched, but she simply can't find it in herself to care. He coolly offers to get her a cab, but she insists that she's going to stick around and have another drink. He pays for dinner; she doesn't argue.

He stands to leave and she gives him a tight smile, expelling a relieved breath when he finally walks away. She knows she'll never see him again and that makes the corners of her lips turn up slightly.

She turns her attention back to where it wants to be and she finds the man speaking with the waiter at his table. Her finger mindlessly circles the top of her now empty glass and she just waits for him to look back at her. The waiter leaves and his eyes lazily meet hers again. He smirks into his glass and drains it before leaning back in his seat.

She thinks the temperature in the room jumps exponentially.

* * *

Puck's a good lay.

He knows it, prides himself on it, and has lost track over the years of the number of women that have needlessly told him he's the best sex they've ever had. He doesn't care much for repeat performances unless they come attached to women who can't become attached. (read: already married)

The latest cougar he's been fucking off and on for the last several months coerced him into meeting her here tonight. He hadn't wanted to, at all really, but she was great looking with her tight body and a pair of pretty spectacular tits he's sure her husband spent a fortune on.

(She also lets him do whatever the fuck he feels like to her in bed and that's never a bad thing.)

Lately, she'd been getting way too clingy for his liking, and that was his cue to fuck that shit one last time and _bail_. So that was his plan for the night, or had been, anyway, until he got her text message saying that her husband came home early and that she couldn't meet him. _Enjoy the Four Seasons, though. My treat_.

And because he's annoyed that she stood him up (_he _doesn't get stood up _ever_), he's doing exactly what she suggested—enjoying the hell out of the Four Seasons on her dime. (The filet and lobster? Fucking delicious. Ditto on the top shelf booze.)

* * *

Things start looking up the moment he notices the hot brunette eye fucking him from her table.

She's really fucking gorgeous, this girl; and the way she's looking at him while slipping cocktail garnishes into her mouth is beyond sexy and makes him instantly wonder what those lips'd look like wrapped around his cock. (Pretty excellent, he guesses)

Her date is clearly boring her, given the way she all but scowls when he returns and interrupts this little game she's started. It makes him laugh into his whiskey. And because he's bored and she's smokin', he decides he wants to play whatever game it is she wants to play…for now, because let's face it, he's got games of his own.

(He certainly wouldn't hate playing them with her.)

The drink he ordered for her arrives at her table and she breaks eye contact with him to smile at the waiter and take the proffered martini. She lifts the glass in thanks when she looks back, giving him this flirty smile over the top of her drink that seems pretty goddamn loaded if you ask him. He smirks in return, swirls the liquid around in his crystal glass, and thinks this night is gonna turn out alright after all.

The brunette stands up from her table and he's sure she's about to walk over and thank him for the drink. He thinks (hopes) that maybe she'll suggest they go get naked, which, let's be honest, is sort of the whole point of this charade.

(And that would be fucking _awesome_)

She turns and he gets a look at her ass (which is spec-fucking-tacular) and he _definitely _wants this to happen. What he doesn't expect is for her to walk away. His jaw tenses and twitches and he's fucking pissed off at all the cock teases in his life tonight. _Fuck that noise_.

But then she tosses this sexy look over her shoulder as she heads for the lobby and he knows he's about to hit the jackpot. He quickly settles up his outrageous tab ("Just charge it to my room") and strolls after her.

* * *

It's absolute insanity, this thing she's about to do.

She's never done something so utterly spontaneous, so careless, so _reckless_. She doesn't _do _things like this because they're dangerous and she _knows _it. (She's seen enough horror stories on the news and terrible Lifetime movies.)

He's a complete stranger and they haven't even spoken a single word to one another.

The fact that the idea alone warms her belly and thrills her more and more with each clacking step her heels take through the lobby should positively shame her. But then she thinks about her life and how regimented it is (always has been), how long it's been since she's been intimate with a man (an embarrassingly long time) and she's positive she wants to do this.

Rachel stops at one of the marble columns in the grand lobby, leans against it. There's already a deep, needing ache between her legs and the man she hopes (knows) is following after her looks like he knows all the best ways to help rid her of that. Her nerves threaten to get the best of her and nothing has even happened yet. She gulps her martini and swallows thickly when she feels him behind her, heat from his body soaking through the thin material of her black dress and into her skin. His breath is hot on her ear and he smells amazing; she fights off the shudder that threatens to shoot through her whole body.

"Not running away are you?" he asks lowly.

His voice is deep and so sexy that her knees kind of knock together, and yet it makes her confidence soar. She blows out a little breath and slowly turns around, peering up at him, her eyes dancing excitedly. "And why would I do that?" she tosses back, one eyebrow arched. Lifting the almost empty glass to her lips, she drains the rest of her drink, feeling it burn a warm trail down her throat.

Puck smirks and cocks an eyebrow of his own. She's absolutely stunning up close and he wants this to happen even more than he did ten seconds ago. He rakes his eyes slowly over her body and his cock twitches appreciatively when he lingers on the deep V her dress makes between her tits. "Dunno," he shrugs. "Maybe you think you're getting in over your head here." He raises his head and meets her eyes, grins wickedly.

Her head angles slightly and she gives him a kittenish smile. She has _no idea_ where this brazen behavior is coming from, but she's fully committed now. Leaning in just a bit closer, she whispers "I'm a good swimmer." She brushes a finger over the lapel of his jacket and catches her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at him through lowered lashes.

_Fuckin' A_. This night was chock full of promise now. "So am I," he counters.

Rachel smiles a little more. "You look like it." He laughs and she sets her empty glass on the table behind her. "Do you have a room?" she asks him. Because if he doesn't, she's fully prepared to plunk down her credit card right now for one. She needs and wants this in equal measure.

His eyes hold hers as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket and produces a key card. She bites her lip again and smiles and he wants her right goddamn now. There's just one more thing he needs to know first.

"This isn't going to cost me more than that martini, is it?" he asks. His tone is somewhat amused, but it's a valid question. That restaurant is crawling with call girls and yeah, they're all beautiful, but he doesn't need to pay for sex—just so everyone is fucking crystal on that. He's pretty sure she _isn't_, but he doesn't need to get his (and his dick's) hopes up only to be disappointed.

His words are slow to sink in, mostly because she's rapidly losing the ability to think and he's only just barely brushed against her. When they finally do and she understands his meaning, she's instantly offended. Her eyes narrow dangerously and her head snaps upright. "I'm not an escort," she bites out in a heated whisper. "Are _you_?"

There's fire in those big brown eyes now and it's sexy as all hell. (This one seems _full_ of fire and heat and he can't _wait_ to find out for sure) He isn't offended in the least by her question and he laughs it off and shrugs. "Nope." She still looks a little pissed so he runs his fingers slowly down the slim column of her neck and he feels her shiver. "Don't be pissed," he murmurs darkly, his fingers now skimming down the center of her chest.

Rachel's pragmatic side was starting to emerge again and she felt herself balk over this whole situation she was about to engage in. She sees his eyes looking over her shoulder and she glances back, spotting one of the old suits she saw in the restaurant with the exact type of girl she was just accused of being.

This newly discovered wanton side of her told the practical side to take a hike. "I suppose I can't blame you for asking," she sighs. He shoots her a questioning look and she feels herself smile. Her heart races when a rakish grin stretches across his (ridiculously) handsome face.

"Good. Let's go," he says, gesturing towards the bank of elevators with his head. The look she gives him in return is so fuckin' money that he can't wait to get inside that hotel suite and have those legs of hers wrapped around him. His eyes zero in on her ass again when she walks ahead of him and he shakes his head and smirks at this fortunate turn of events.

* * *

The elevator ride to the 50th floor is made way longer than necessary due to the fact that he can't touch her the way he wants to. Well, he supposes he _can_, but he thinks (okay, knows) that would totally offend the family of four in the elevator with them. Her arm is hardly touching his, but it's enough to drive him crazy. And she's not looking at him. At all. She's just staring straight ahead as they ascend the floors with this knowing smirk on her lips. (It's a lot sexy, that look on her lips…well, her lips in general.)

The family finally fucks off on the 45th floor and he's tempted to get things rolling between them, press against her, whisper something dirty, but for some reason he doesn't. Probably because he wants to prolong this intense little game they're playing knowing that things are going to explode the second they set foot into his room.

A bell _dings_ and the door quietly slides open on the floor. He steps wordlessly off the elevator and walks down the hall. Rachel follows and her heart threatens to pound right out of her chest. It should make her nervous, what she's about to do (it does a bit), but all she can think is that as soon as that door is open she and this stranger are going to have sex. And she really needs to have sex.

The fact that they haven't bothered asking each other for names should not make her as wet as she is right now.

He slows to a stop in front of his room and pulls the key card from his pocket. The lock beeps and clicks and he pushes the door open, gesturing for her to enter. "After you," he says, giving off the impression that he's polite. They've exchanged about thirty words and she already knows he isn't that.

She can't wait to see how that translates once his hands are on her.

Rachel brushes past him into the room, flashing him a knowing smile as she does. He grins crookedly back and her heart beats quicker.

The room is exceptional and chic with its luxury and her eyes take it all in. She hears the door close soundly behind her and the deadbolt clicking into place; she feels the heat churning slowly through her abdomen. Walking further into the room, she drops her purse on a table and heads toward the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows. The view is magnificent and she can see the lights from the Chrysler building shining in the clear summer night. Her eyes quickly dart over to the giant four poster bed and she wonders if they'll even make it over there before they pounce on each other.

(She's guessing not)

"Great room," she says, her voice breathier than she meant for it to be.

"Great ass," he retorts.

Rachel glances back at him, smiling, and the chuckle in her throat dies out when she sees him looking back at her like he wants to completely devour her. (She sincerely hopes he does) "Thanks," she manages flirtatiously.

He steps closer to her and folds his arms across his chest. "Show me," he says gruffly.

Her throat dries up completely and she just blinks at him. He smirks back at her and arches an eyebrow as if to say _I'm waiting_. She wonders if that's a signature look of his. (It's fully effective regardless) Swallowing hard, she slowly reaches for the hem of her dress and lifts it up over her hips, holding it around her waist.

He expected her to ditch the dress completely and he fucking digs that she's only giving him the peek he asked for. And seriously, if her ass was a ten in the dress, then it was off the fucking charts now that he was seeing that tone golden flesh meagerly covered by a tiny swatch of black lace. (So fucking hot) If he were to openly drool over anything, her ass might be it. He's been hard since the lobby and his cock twitches again in response to her body. "Take off your panties."

It's a command and she knows it; but it's not harsh and she's not oblivious _at all_ to the way his eyes clouded over when he looked at her. She turns her head back to face the window and drops the fabric in her hands and she bites her lip and stifles a grin when he groans a little. Reaching beneath her dress, she hooks her fingers around the top of her panties and slides them down her legs, bending over to step out of them. Feeling bold, she meets his eyes over her shoulder again and drops her panties to the floor.

Christ, this woman is sexy, and he likes that she's wavering between being a bit unsure about all this and teasing the fuck outta him. But honestly, if he thought for one second she really didn't want to do this, he'd show her the door. It'd be tough as hell, but he only sleeps with willing partners. He grins at her, because she's gorgeous and he wants to, but also because she seems to need some encouragement. (Seriously though, she can't possibly doubt how hot she is, right?)

She lowers her lashes and peers up through them and, _dammit_, it's such a fucking turn on he can't begin to explain it. (Because all of his blood is currently draining right into his dick) And then it's like she just fucking knows the next words out of his mouth are going to be _turn around and show me your pussy_, because she does, turn around that is, and she's toying with the bottom of her dress some more while her tongue grazes quickly across her full bottom lip. _Fuck_. He motions for her to lift it up and watches intently as she grabs the hem of the black fabric and raises it up over her hips again.

Someone upstairs fucking loves him, because she's completely bare and smooth and he's now so hard it's painful. "Jesus fucking Christ," he swears harshly. Taking two big strides, he palms her hips and pulls her roughly against him, pressing his arousal to her stomach. She makes this little noise in the back of her throat, her lips falling open and her breath warm against his mouth. She's so fucking sexy, this girl, blinking owlishly up at him. He very nearly growls when he finally crushes his lips to hers.

His kiss is hard and dark, searing, as his tongue pushes past her lips and curls hotly around hers. She grips the front of his shirt, moans into his mouth when his hands sink lower and grab her ass, lifting her carelessly off the ground. Her legs snake around his waist and she can feel just how hard he is against the inside of her thigh; it makes the ache she has pulse even deeper. _God_.

She doesn't even realize he's moving until she feels her back being pressed against the cool glass of the window. His lips skate down her neck, licking and nipping at a spot that always makes her shiver and arch. Her head falls back with a thud against the glass to grant him better access and she gasps when his hand reaches between them, unceremoniously slipping two fingers into her throbbing heat.

Puck groans against her skin when he feels how slick she already is and he pushes his fingers deeper in her pussy. The sound she makes in response is so fucking hot he's pretty sure that if he doesn't concentrate he's gonna come in his pants. And he refuses to let that shit happen. Her hands tug furiously at his tie and she lifts it over his head before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his mouth hungrily back to hers. Everything about this girl is wicked hot and he seriously needs to fuck her.

Now.

He removes his fingers and she actually fucking whimpers, breaking the kiss and curling her fingers into his shoulder. It shouldn't be as sexy it is, but when it's accompanied by heavy, dark eyes and full, parted lips and gasping breath, he can't think of anything sexier. Drawing his fingers to his mouth, he licks the taste of her off one before swiping the other across her lips. Her tongue darts out and pulls his finger into her mouth, slowly sucking it clean, her eyes locking on his. Puck can't fight the shudder that rumbles through his body nor the grin that stretches across his face. "Damn, baby," he mumbles and she squeezes her legs tighter around his waist. "You've got a hot mouth."

"God, fuck me already," Rachel pants out. She reaches between their bodies and strokes him a couple times through his pants. He smacks her hand away and presses his hips roughly against hers, pinning her body to the window so he can pull a condom from his wallet. Running her hands up his chest, she pops open the buttons on his shirt and watches as he pulls back a little to free himself and roll the condom in place. She bites her lip in anticipation; he's _impressive_ and she just knows this is going to be quick and dirty and amazing.

Puck double checks the condom and glances up to see her staring at his cock intently. He smirks; he's used to that reaction. He rubs it along her slit a couple times before driving completely into her pussy, grunting when he feels how tight she is around him. She strangles out a little cry and digs her fingers into his arms, her head falling against his shoulder. He holds steady for a moment, letting her body adjust. "Good?" he asks, stroking his hand over her hip.

Rachel nods and rolls her hips into his, gently biting at the hinge of his jaw, soothing the skin with her tongue. She's so full of him and while it feels _good _she really needs him to move. "Fuck me," she practically begs, her breath hitting his neck and her fingers threading through his hair. "Please!"

It's the only encouragement he needs to pull out and slam into her again. Puck pushes his hips forward and pins her against the window. Smoothing his hands up her sides, he grabs the material around her shoulders and tugs it down, exposing her tits. He growls when he sees fucking perfect they are (no bra—bonus!). She's arching against him, trying to get him to move as he admires the newly exposed skin; he loves that she wants this as much as he does and he'll give it to her in a minute. "Fuck, babe, your body is smokin'," he bites out gruffly, palming her breast and plucking a hard, rosy peak before kissing her roughly. His other hand holds tightly at her hip as he thrusts into her once.

Her head lolls back on the glass and she groans loudly. "You're trying to kill me," she murmurs, rocking her hips again, bordering on desperate. Rachel meets his eyes and the devilish glint reflected in his tells her she's right on the money there. He _finally_ starts moving, establishing the best rhythm in the world, and she digs her heels into the small of his back to spur him on.

Beads of sweat pop up on his forehead as he ratchets his himself into her body, the lights from the city skyline shining over her shoulder. "I hope people in the Chrysler building can see exactly what I'm doing to you right now," he says darkly against her neck, sucking over her pulse point. "See your hot ass pressed against the glass while I fuck you so hard." She keens out this amazing sound and threads her fingers through his hair again. "S'fuckin' hot!"

It is. And she is. Hot. Everywhere. Her skin is slick with sweat and she can feel the heat twisting and coiling tighter and tighter in her belly, hurriedly chasing after release. She arches a little, her nipples grazing his chest as he continues driving her higher and higher. "I'm Rachel," she pants out, unsure why she's choosing this exact moment to tell him her name. He nips at her jaw, then her lips, not breaking the rhythm between her thighs and tips his head back and to smirk at her.

"Puck," he says with a crooked grin.

She looks at him through hazy eyes and feels a smile pulling at her mouth. "What kind of name is that?" she asks breathlessly. His smile turns a bit wicked and fully arrogant.

"One you'll be screaming soon," he rasps, slipping a hand between their bodies and circling her clit with his index finger.

"Oh, fuck," she moans, her eyes falling closed.

"Close," he chuckles, crooking two fingers around the swollen nub. He feels her clench and pulse around him and he's so goddamn close to losing it himself.

"Don 't stop. God—_so good_." He presses hard against her clit and the dam shatters, white light exploding behind her eyes as heat spreads throughout every inch of her body and a guttural cry tears from her lips. "Jesus Christ. Oh, fuck."

She's so tight and wet, pulsing hard around his shaft. He snaps his hips frantically, chasing his own orgasm now. He grips both her hips firmly and two thrusts are all it takes before his body goes rigid and he spends himself inside her. He shudders violently against her body, his nose buried in her hair. She—Rachel, he knows now—sighs and brushes her fingers along the back of his neck. He lifts his head and she smiles like a contented cat back at him, unwrapping her legs from his waist. So, he kisses her, slowly, planting his hands against the glass on either side of her head. "That was so hot, Rachel," he finally says against her lips before slipping from her body.

Rachel combs back her hair, tucking it behind her ear and finds that she likes the way her name sounds on his—_on Puck's_—lips more than she probably should. She doesn't kid herself. This is a random one night stand, but she intends to make the most of it. "It was," she agrees. "Puck." The name makes the corner of her mouth twitch. He removes the condom and ties it off, tossing it haphazardly into a nearby trashcan.

He turns back just in time to watch her push her dress to the floor and step out of it, leaving her completely naked before him, save for the red high heels on her feet. A grin splits his face and he steps closer to her. "Good, you're not in a hurry to leave," he says, brushing his knuckles up her arm and raking his eyes over her killer body.

Rachel lets out a throaty laugh and grabs the front of his shirt, tugging it free from his pants and undoing the rest of the buttons. "Not even a little bit," she assures him, smoothing the dress shirt off his body. Her breath hitches in her throat when her eyes light over tanned skin and well-sculpted muscles. She walks her fingers up his stomach and looks up at him with a kittenish smile. "Have a seat," she instructs, pushing him down into the chair behind him.

Smirking, he does as told and relaxes back in the chair. Tonight is already in the top ten of best nights ever. Then she gets on her knees and settles herself between his legs, stroking him a few times before flicking her tongue around the head, securing a spot in the top five. _Easily._

* * *

Later, after the single best blowjob he's ever had and he comes in her mouth? Rachel flirts with the top three.

* * *

It's late when they manage to finally make it to the bed. She wonders how she's even still moving at this point seeing as they've had sex (well, _fucked _is probably a more appropriate term and one they've both used repeatedly) on nearly every surface in the entire suite. Lying back against the pillows, she hears a knock on the door. Her eyes widen in surprise and she sits up, pulling the sheet around her chest. Puck doesn't seem surprised at all and tugs on his pants. "Room service," he tells her with a wink. She smiles and relaxes again, appreciating the muscles in his retreating back.

He rolls the cart over to the bed and she sees a bottle of champagne and an ice cream sundae. Smiling, she sits up on her knees, the sheet pooling around her waist, and reaches for the bottle. "Isn't it customary to seduce the girl before having sex with her?" she teases, tipping the bottle up to her lips and drinking deep. She's not sure who this Rachel Berry is, exactly, but she kind of (really) likes her. Puck laughs dryly and smiles at her over his shoulder before picking up his discarded tie on the floor.

"Do I need to point out who started this?" he asks, walking over to stand in front of her. He takes the champagne from her and takes a drink before setting it back in the ice bucket.

Rachel stretches her arms over her head, feeling the delicious ache of exhausted muscles. "Yes, I seem to recall tremendous protesting on your behalf, too," she retorts, rolling her eyes playfully. She watches him running the tie through his hands as he rakes his eyes slowly up and down her body and a little part of her (the uptight, responsible part) feels a tiny bit apprehensive as news stories and bad made-for-TV movies flash in her mind. Swallowing thickly, she eyes the tie in his hands and then looks back to his face. "What's the tie for?" she asks quietly.

His brow furrows when he sees fear reflected in her big doe eyes and he realizes the way he's handling the tie is clearly giving her the totally wrong impression. (Which is ridiculous since he's been fucking them both senseless for hours) "I want to blindfold you and lick these things off your body," he answers simply.

"Oh," she sighs, relieved that she's not about to be strangled to death. Then his words sink in and her skin flushes hotly for what seems like the thousandth time that evening. "Oh," she repeats, breathless, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. He cocks a brow at her and she shivers under the intensity of his hazel eyes. She hooks her fingers in the waistband of his pants and pulls him a little closer, resting her hands on his stomach. "Okay then."

Puck grins lecherously and covers her eyes with the silky material, tying it at the back of her head. Her hands wrap further around his waist and she wets her lips. "Fuck, this is going to be hot," he murmurs against her mouth, pulling back when she tries to kiss him. Her mouth sets into a pout and he bites back a chuckle. Reaching into the champagne bucket, he grabs an ice cube and slowly swipes it across her bottom lip, making her suck in a quick breath.

He takes his time, trailing the ice over her chin, down her throat, through the valley between her small, perfect tits. She gasps quietly when he runs it over her stomach and goose bumps prickle her skin. Her thumbs are lightly rubbing back and forth against his sides and it feels better than a simple gesture like that probably should, he realizes, quickly shaking that away. Bowing his head, he slowly licks up the wet trail he left on her skin.

Things like this just _do not _happen to her. And if it wasn't for the feel of his tongue sliding up her body and the way she shivers in response, she'd have a very hard time believing they were happening now. She's not really sure what the proper procedure is for being naked and blindfolded, so she just keeps her hands on his waist and enjoys the heightened sensations she's experiencing due to her sight being taken away, letting her body react the way it wants beneath his touch. His breath feels warm against her lips and she wants so badly to kiss him. Leaning forward, she attempts to lay her mouth over his, but he pulls just out of reach. Again. And teases her. Again. The protesting whine comes out before she can stop it and she doesn't miss quiet sound of him laughing.

Something cold and wet touches her lips and she startles a bit before swirling her tongue around it. It's sweet and round and she quickly deduces it's the cherry from atop the sundae. She licks her lips slowly and takes the cherry into her mouth again.

Fucking hell—this woman is going to be the damn death of him. His pants are uncomfortably tight and he adjusts himself while plucking the cherry stem from the fruit in her mouth, watching her chew slowly. A sinful smile stretches across her face and he groans, skimming his fingers along her ribcage. Rachel leans into him, pressing her breasts against his chest and stroking her hands up his back. For someone who was nervous about being blindfolded five minutes ago, she's doing a killer fucking job now. Her hands sink lower and sneak around the front to brush his cock. His fingers circle her wrists and lift them away. It's not that he doesn't want her to touch him, because hello, obviously that is the ultimate goal (and she's proven multiple times tonight how _great _she is at touching him), but he wants to lick things off her body and tease the hell outta her first. S'not unreasonable he thinks.

He grabs the bottle of champagne again and drinks deep, fisting his other hand in Rachel's long, dark hair. Tugging firmly, he pulls her head back and her chest arches up temptingly. He brushes his nose up her neck and presses a sloppy kiss on her jaw. "Open your mouth," he orders gruffly against her skin. She barely hesitates before obeying and he pours a stream of champagne inside. Her fingers curl into his arm and she licks the corner of her mouth, catching the bead of liquid that dripped out and moaning lowly in the back of her throat. God, this was his best idea _ever_.

She's still arched back, his fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck when he finally kisses her again. It's cool and his tongue tastes like champagne when it dances around hers and she wants more. _So much more_. Her hands slide up to rest on his shoulders, to pull him closer when he pulls his lips from hers and rests them on the shell of her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin. "Lay down," he murmurs.

"Face down or face up?" she asks, her lips curling into a naughty smile.

"Fuck, baby," he grunts, wondering how in the hell she manages to pull off innocent and vixen simultaneously. It's beyond his comprehension at this point and he idly strokes himself through his pants. She's still smirking at him and her eyebrow quirks up questioningly over the tie. He quickly weighs his options and looks to the room service cart for inspiration before finally telling her "Face down." She smiles all brightly at him like he's given her a puppy or something, but hey man, he's not one to question when she looks like she does and fucks like a champ and he's mere seconds away from eating ice cream off her naked back.

Turning, she eases down onto her stomach, her head at the foot of the bed. She's facing him, this anticipating smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, her dark hair spilling down her back and on the white linens covering the bed. And though he's been looking at her amazing body all night, there's something about seeing her laid out like she is now that makes his mouth water. Shucking off his pants, he palms his cock, stroking it a couple times before grabbing the sundae off the cart and climbing onto the bed beside Rachel.

The mattress shifts beneath his weight and she quietly sucks in a breath, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and wondering what he's got planned for her next. Puck smoothes his fingers up her leg and she jerks slightly and lets out a muffled giggle when he brushes the back of her knee. "Someone's ticklish," she hears him mutter laughingly, his breath hot on her ear. She opens her mouth to respond and squeals instead when he presses the cold dish of ice cream against her side, just below her breast. His answering laugh is low and deep and a hundred kinds of sexy. It makes the heat in her belly swirl again. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Hell yes," he replies, scooping his finger through the hot fudge on top of the sundae. He runs the back of his knuckles down her spine, grinning smugly when her skin prickles under his touch. He draws a 'P' on the small of her back and sits back to admire his handiwork. _Fucking hot._

"Did you just give me a tramp stamp?" she playfully asks. He makes a non-committal grunt, rests a hand on her ass and swirls his tongue over the small of her back. "Oh my God," she hisses, pinpricks of pleasure shooting up her spine. Using his mouth and hands, he gradually makes his way up her back and, smoothing her hair out of the way, kisses her neck as he settles himself between her thighs, just barely rubbing against her sex. She bucks her hips so he rubs her firmly and he bites out a swear and sucks hard on her neck, knowing that he's going to leave a mark and not caring one bit about that.

The weight of his body is deliciously heavy and the way he's pushing her down into the mattress feels so wonderful she swears she could die and be happy right now. "Quit teasing me," she pleads. Puck laughs darkly in her ear and she knows now that he's only going to draw this out even longer, despite him being hard between her thighs. He rolls off of her and she whines at the loss of contact with his body. His hand slaps her ass hard enough that it stings and she cries out. "Roll over," he tells her; she does.

Rachel hears what she thinks is the foil package of a condom being ripped open and she prays that it's true. She _needs_ him inside her so badly. His arms hook under both of her knees and he drags her up the bed, wrapping her legs around his waist. He's still not in her and she's afraid to ask what the holdup is for fear he'll tease her until she is _completely insane._ A calloused hand slides up her inner thigh and she writhes on the bed, arching into his hand. She blindly reaches for any part of him she can touch and rests her hand on his bicep. "Puck, please," she mewls when a finger slicks over her opening.

"It's Noah," he tells her.

All she can focus on is getting the deeply rooted ache inside to go away and she can't do that unless he touches her the way she needs or, blessedly, he _fucks her again_. But his real name manages to somehow register. _Noah_. "That's a good name," she breathes and because she can't stand it anymore, she pulls off the tie covering her eyes and pushes up on her elbows so she can look at him. His brow cocks up and he smirks down at her but says nothing about not telling her she could remove the blindfold. She's just about to ask what he's waiting for when he tips the bottle of champagne over and pours it over her breasts. She startles from the cold and gasps when he leans forward and laps at one breast and then the other, biting down gently on a nipple. "My God," she keens, arching up so high her body is practically rainbow shaped.

"Fuck, how are you so damn flexible?" he grunts, slurping champagne from her belly button. When the word _dancer_ worms its way to the currently functioning part of his brain, he swears heatedly and drops the bottle back on the cart. Grabbing her arms, he lifts her up and kisses her hard. "Ride me," he barks, shifting his hips and driving into her body.

* * *

Rachel's not sure how they end up on the floor, but they are both leaning back against the bed, the nearly melted sundae between them and passing the spoon back and forth.

"This is really good," she says.

They both know she's not just talking about ice cream.

"Yeah, it is," he agrees, handing her the spoon so she can have the last bite.

She smiles and scoops up the last melted bite. The spoon is halfway to her lips when she stops, smirks at him and drizzles the ice cream on his chest instead. There's an absolutely wicked gleam in his hazel eyes and he seems to very much approve of this. She shifts to her knees and slowly licks the ice cream off his chest. Turnabout is fair play, after all. She kisses a line up his neck and plants one on his mouth before pushing to her feet.

"Where're you going?" he asks with a crooked grin.

"I'm sticky," she says.

Yeah, she is. "I'll make you stickier," he retorts. Her answering laugh is teasing and probably a bit mocking, if he's being honest. As is the accompanied eye roll.

"I'm sure you would. But I want to see if what they say about the tubs at the Four Seasons is true." He raises a brow questioningly. "They're supposed to fill up completely in 60 seconds."

"Well, you wouldn't want to miss that," he says dryly, smirking at her.

She pads across the suite into the enormous bathroom and pauses in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at him. "You coming?"

"I don't really _do _baths," he tells her and she smiles devilishly.

"Pity. I was going to use your body as a wash cloth."

_Holy shit! Fucking jackpot!_ "Right behind you," he grins, springing to his feet and running after her.

* * *

When he wakes up the next morning, he rolls over just in time to see Rachel pulling her dress on. He rubs an eye with the heel of his hand and glances at the clock. It's closing in on 10:00 and they finally let go of each other a couple hours ago. "S'a shame to cover that body up, you know," he drawls lazily, flinging an arm behind his head to prop himself up.

Rachel glances over her shoulder and laughs softly. "I don't think the guests at the hotel or the people on the street would appreciate me roaming around naked," she says, combing her fingers through her hair and sweeping it back into a ponytail.

Puck grins and lets his eyes roam slowly over her body, focusing on her unbelievable legs as she slips her tiny feet into red heels. "They don't know what they're missin'." She makes this little humming sound in the back of her throat and smiles brightly. It's way hot and while he thinks his dick might actually fall off he they fuck one more time, he really wants her again. "You gotta take off? I have the room until noon."

She groans and the thought of another round right now makes all of her muscles ache. Still, it's tempting, but real life is setting in and she's got two shows. "I can't," she frowns a little. "I have to get to work." Practical Rachel is surfacing, she can feel it, so before this completely dirty side of her vanishes, she walks over to the bed and kisses the hell out of him, moaning when his tongue slips into her mouth and strokes hers. She breaks the kiss and smiles down at him, patting his cheek not lightly. "Thanks for fucking my brains out." His answering grin is lightning fast and this sexy laugh rumbles in his chest. Something on the floor catches her eye and she bends over to pick it up. She holds up his tie and opens her purse, dropping it inside.

"Stealing my tie, thief?" he asks amusedly. And yeah, he noticed the way she bent over right in front of him. Her panties are so fucking _not_ on her person.

"Consider it a memento from this crazy night," she tells him, taking a few steps towards the door.

"S'my good tie," he argues, sitting up. "What if I want it back?" She stops and turns back, flashing this coy little smile.

"Well," she begins slowly, "if we happen to bump into one another again, you can have it back."

"Baby, after sex like that, I definitely want to bump into you again." Okay, so it surprises him that those words actually slipped out, but whatever—they're true.

Rachel laughs and briefly considers giving him her number, but she knows once she walks out that door, this spell they are both under will wear off and she'll never hear from him again. This way, he can't call her and she won't have to worry about the brush off. "I'm not hard to find—just have to look in the right spot." That said she lifts a hand and smiles again, her eyes sparkling happily. "See you around, Noah." Turning, she walks right for the door and lets it close soundly behind her.

Fuck, that girl was awesome.

He gets out of bed and sees what an absolute _disaster _the room is. He smirks proudly and laughs his ass off over the fact that this won't cost him a fucking dime.

Without a doubt _best night ever_.


End file.
